Forgotten
by Forever Musical Alee
Summary: We all know that Clary Fray's memories were altered. She automatically forgot everything that had to do w/ the unseen. But what if...Clary had had a friend? What if the Clary and Simon duo used to be a trio? What if Jocelyn had told Simon to forget about it & he had? What would you do if that friend came back? In CoFA. Might skip parts&go into CoLS. Plz give a chance! Sebastian/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so hello again. I'm back. But, this time with a chapter revision. I looked back on some things I had written earlier, about the plot, and realized that this wasn't how my story was supposed to start out. So, I shall restart it, this time the way it was supposed to be.**

**I hope whoever has read it isn't upset; I just wanted it to be… right. The right way. So, with much reluctance, I present to you the real first chapter to Forgotten. Enjoy.**

**Please review!**

"Hey, shove off!"

"Get your greasy mitts _off_ me, you twit!"

"Will you both just shut up and quit fighting already? Jeez, just give it a rest!"

"He started it!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

And so it continued, much to Fey Youngcross's annoyance. She and her fellow Shadowhunters had been riding in the subway for about an hour; her companions were getting restless. She herself could use a break to stretch her legs.

_Only a few minutes more,_ Fey thought to herself. Of course, she had been telling herself that for the past hour, every time her friends got into their little disputes. She sighed tiredly. Fey hadn't gotten sleep in quite a while, having been too excited to get to New York for sleep. It had been quite a surprise when the guardian of the London Institute where they lived together—also their legal guardian—had sent them on a sort of mission—as he had put it—to go help those in New York, for they seemed to need some extra hands. Fey hadn't argued; she hadn't been to New York in years.

She was wincing now as her companions' arguments escalated in volume; she was sure someone was going to come out and tell them to shut up. Fey wasn't sure why no one had yet. The mere fact that nobody had even glanced at them was practically a miracle.

Or a glamour.

"Fey!"

She winced again. _Drat_, she thought. _Dragged into the argument again._

"What?" she asked pleasantly, out loud. She looked over at her fellow Shadowhunters. Christina Lovelace, the second oldest below Fey, was currently between the other two trying to separate them. Her brown hair was erratic, sticking up in different ways and directions; a look she would so kill the other two for making. She had a kind face, tan skin, and bright hazel eyes that were currently looking at Fey helplessly.

The other two were siblings. Both two years apart in age, Kyle and Marina Whitelaw looked nothing alike. Kyle, the older of the two, had black hair and calming green eyes set above a straight nose and a pleasant smile that could usually make Fey's day. Marina was the exact opposite. Two years younger at the age of fourteen, she was the stereotype of a teenager. Mousy brown hair and brown eyes with a small, dainty nose made up the features of her face, along with a small mouth that wasn't really all that small when she opened it and started talking. The girl was sarcastic and sometimes cruel with her words. Sometimes Fey thought Marina was even more sarcastic than her.

"Fey, make him stop bothering me!" Marina whined.

"I didn't even do anything!" Kyle insisted. "I didn't even look her way when she just out of the blue hit me!"

"You were looking at my text messages!" Marina accused. Fey sighed. Marina was obsessed with her cell phone.

"Fey, please do something!" Christina cried as the siblings proceeded to try to hit each other around her.

Fey scowled at the siblings. They stopped struggling immediately, knowing that they were going to get in trouble. She stood up and walked over to Marina, holding herself up carefully. She reached down and took Marina's phone from her hand, causing the girl to cry out, though she didn't dare try to swipe it back. Then Fey walked over to Kyle and grabbed his arm, dragging him back with her to her seat and plopping him down beside her.

"I'll give this back to you," Fey said to Marina. The younger girl looked like she was about to burst into tears across from where Fey sat. "When you deserve it." She tucked the phone into her coat pocket, just when the subway reached their destination. People started walking off and onto the platform, shoving their way out of the train. Fey and her friends followed, getting through much more smoothly than the other people.

They stood on the platform, marveling at the sights before them. Banners of propaganda were everywhere; people walked everywhere they looked, talking on phones, talking to people, or just loitering. Garbage was also everywhere, and Fey thought she wouldn't be surprised to find homeless people here after the place was empty. They moved away from the doors of the train, moving to stand by one of the pillars near the trash cans. While people couldn't see them, they didn't want to take any risks.

Fey and her friends huddled by the pillar, heads bent out of habit. "So," Fey said, getting down to business. She wasn't one to delay, or lay things down slowly and gently. It just wasn't her way. "First thing's first. We haven't eaten since yesterday, and it's already the evening. We have to go eat something. How do you think the guardians of the Institute will feel, having four young, ravenous, and obnoxious"—she glared pointedly at Marina and Kyle—"Shadowhunters from London who are supposed to help them? Very helpless, I would think. Now, come on. Let's go find someplace."

The four of them joined hands, much like they did when they were together on their own, and went out of the subway station to look for a restaurant.

_~0~_

"So, what do you think they're like, guys?" Christina said around a mouthful of bread and meatballs. She licked the sauce off of her fingers, one by one, making a satisfied smacking sound after each. Fey and the rest of them had found a small Subway restaurant on the corner of a busy street. People were apparently too busy to buy or eat at Subway; the store was completely empty and a poor bored employee, a boy with glasses and braces that shone when he talked, sat at the counter, looking wistfully at the clock.

They had all ordered foot-longs—two each. Fey was on her second one, already done with the first, and Marina was a bite away from finishing her second as well. Kyle had finished about five minutes before, as Fey knew this was normal teenage boy behavior. Christina was still on her first one, just finishing it. She was always the slowest one of their group.

"I don't know," Kyle answered, sounding thoughtful, "hopefully not as temperamental as Grey. That is something I think we deserve a long break from."

The others agreed, though it was half-hearted. Grey was the Guardian. The Guardian of the London Institute and the legal guardian of Fey and the gang. He was the one who had taken care of them and raised them all from the age of twelve, Fey being the second to join the family after Christina. Christina had been younger and more than happy to let Fey take the lead of caring and leading the others. When Fey wasn't there, she was in charge. Then Kyle, but not really Marina. Marina was a little too distracted when it came down to it. Easily panicked.

Fey knew that they would all miss their easily-annoyed guardian. But she also knew that while they would, they wouldn't admit it. The group just wasn't that out-coming.

"Boring," Marina said, her eyes glued to the screen of the television in the corner of the booth. It was on some reality TV show that all of them knew nothing about, but that didn't stop her from watching it. She was clearly mourning the loss of her phone, Fey knew.

"You think that of all people that you meet. And then later on you say that they aren't boring and then pretend that you never said they were," Fey accused, rolling her eyes. Marina seemed to ignore her, sparking annoyance in her. "Will you look at me while I'm talking to you instead of staring at the telly like an idiot?" Marina frowned, looking over at Fey slowly.

"I'm not an idiot," she said defensively, "you took my phone! I want it back!"

"See that?" Fey pointed at Marina accusingly. "That right there is exactly why I haven't given you your phone back. Attitude. And a lot of it. I don't like it, and it is unnecessary. Once you change that, maybe I'll consider giving you your phone back."

"Consider?" Marina cried incredulously. "That's all you do if I change my attitude? I deserve to have it back once I've changed my attitude! You're being unnecessarily uptight!"

"No, actually, I'm not. You don't deserve it, the way you've been treating us. Look at Christina; she's always had your back in a fight, she's never let you down, she's even offered to be your _parabitai,_ and you turned her down. Granted, you were twelve and she was fifteen, but still! She did that for _you_. Look at Kyle; he's your brother. You treat him like he's not even worthy enough to be something scraped off the bottom of your shoe! He's loved you, cared for you, protected you all your life, and he's also put up with all of your crap because of all of that. And you don't even seem to care.

"You act like you're above everyone, but you are not. You act like you don't care, like you're heartless, but I know that you aren't. You care. You love him and Christina deep down, but you just don't want to show it. You've got a big mouth, and you have got to shut it up before you get into something we'll have to get you out of. Or else I'll shut it for you. Change that attitude of yours and I will _consider_ giving it back to you."

Marina, Christina, and Kyle all stared at Fey, mouths agape. Their eyes were wide with surprise, Marina's filled with an unexpected hurt. Fey gazed at them steadily, eyes and mouth set sternly. Marina slowly closed her mouth and sat quietly. Her eyes filled with unhappy tears. Fey watched, a small spark of guilt settling in her stomach.

She loved Marina, she really did, even if those feelings weren't mutual, but she needed to be told that the way she was acting wasn't right. Fey wanted Marina to know that she needed to have some respect, that she needed to consider what another person might feel about the way she acted. Marina waltzed around a place like she owned it, like she expected everyone to hand her what she wanted. But it wasn't that way, and Fey wanted her to know it. This was not the way she used to be. She once was actually quite sweet and shy and nice to her brother. But then she started Shadowhunter training, and everything changed. She started being mean to her older brother, talking back to her parents, talking back to everybody. At least that was what Kyle had told her. Fey met Marina when the younger girl was eight years old. Fey had just turned twelve then.

Still, Fey had witnessed the rare moments of kindness from Marina when she hadn't known Fey was watching. Fey had seen Marina go into Kyle's room at night, and sometimes followed her in there, using the runes of Swiftness and Soundlessness. Marina just sat there by the bed and watched her brother as he slept. She would watch for ten minutes at the most, while Fey hid somewhere in the room, usually in the closet. Then Marina would leave to her own room and Fey would come out of her hiding place. She would sit by the bed and watch Kyle sleep herself. She wondered what Marina saw, tried to find some reason that Marina would want to watch her brother sleep at night. The week before Grey had sent them away, she found it.

Kyle looked just like his father when he slept.

From what Kyle had told her, Fey knew that Kyle and Marina were orphaned. Their parents had died in battle, just like so many of the Shadowhunters before them. Fey was the same, parentless. She knew how much it changed a person, to not have parents. When Grey had asked her if he could be her care taker—Heaven forbid he call himself her father, for he knew just as well as she did that nobody could replace Drew Youngcross—she had accepted with a guarded heart, not sure she was ready to lose yet another person she cared about. For the first six months, she did not let herself care about Grey. But when he continued to care for her, to be gentle to her even when he was in one of his temper-fits, he won her affections. From then on, she cared about him, her temperamental guardian.

When Kyle and Marina had come to live in the London Institute with her and Christina, who she had gotten along with swimmingly, she had been guardedly optimistic. She had not let herself hope. She already knew the consequences of hope. She had greeted the two siblings with a welcoming half-smile. The smile had slipped off her face when Marina had spoken, the first words she had uttered spoken with sarcasm and meanness.

"Goodness; look, Kyle! A _blonde_ maid. I sure hope she knows how to cook as well as Marie does. I would hate to find my cereal missing some crucial ingredient. Like milk."

Anger had surged inside of Fey. For one, she had looked nothing like a maid, having dressed in a blue t-shirt and dark jeans. For another, she hated blonde jokes. They were completely unfair and cruel. After all, what does a person's hair color have to do with their intellect? And for another thing, Fey hated loud-mouthed people. The insult was rather unnecessary, especially when Fey had done nothing except stand there and breathe.

It had gotten Fey so mad that she had answered with a sharp comeback, dripping venom and sarcasm. "Interesting thing to say, considering you're a blonde yourself." She wasn't really, but Fey did see blonde highlights in the younger girl's hair glinting slightly in the sunlight.

Marina's eyes had narrowed. "I'm not a blonde. I'm a natural brunette. Do you always allow your maids to talk back to their mistresses?" She had directed the question toward Grey, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. Christina was much the same, watching Fey to see what she would do.

"My mistake. And I must ask the same question, Grey. Why are you allowing my midget maid to speak to me at all? She does know that she's my new maid, right? I don't know if I'll keep her, though. I was hoping for a maid tall enough to reach my shoulders for a massage, but I guess we can't always get what we want, eh?" She had looked over at Marina, contempt that wasn't entirely faked visible in her features. She hadn't liked the fact that it had been so easy to dislike the little girl, but it couldn't be helped. Not when the first words out of her mouth had been an insult.

"Your maid?" Marina had cried incredulously. "I didn't come here to be anybody's maid! I came here because I had to, so get out of my way!" She had tried to storm past Fey, but Fey had grabbed her by the arm, yanking her back to face her. She leaned down so that she was level with the shorter girl.

"This is not the way to treat the people who are welcoming you into their house," She had told Marina in a low, threatening voice. "We don't have to take you in. You don't have to stay here. But we are, and you are, so you had better stop with this little act of yours before I put an end to it myself. I don't care what happens to me, I will not let you talk this way to Grey, or Christina, or me. I don't care who you are or where you came from. This behavior is completely unacceptable. I'm not your mother, I'm not your sister, and I'm not your friend. I'm giving you a fair warning. I won't tolerate something like this again. And trust me, neither will Grey. This isn't like the place you lived in before. This is completely different, so adjust to it and you'll do fine."

"And if I don't?" Marina had said, her voice wavering slightly.

Fey smirked in a way that made the younger girl's eyes dart back and forth across her face in fear. "Then be prepared to face the consequences. That's all I'm saying."

That had been five years ago. Marina had wormed her way into Fey's heart despite all that she did and said. Kyle had become her best friend, and Christina her unrelated sister. Marina was Christina's weakness and the younger girl knew it. She took nearly every opportunity to show her that she didn't want Christina's affections. She claimed to be independent, but she wasn't really. She depended on each and every one of them.

"Come on, let's go," Fey muttered, getting up from her seat. The others followed suit, Christina and Kyle shutting their mouths and following Fey quickly out of the Subway restaurant. Marian trailed along behind them, head down, quiet for once. Kyle managed to snag a taxi some time later after standing outside in the cold. They all climbed in, Marina sitting far away from Fey, while Fey told the driver the address.

The drive was blissfully short, sparing the Shadowhunters from the suffocating silence that threatened to choke them all. The driver was a nice enough man, announcing their arrival at the Institute. They all climbed out of the taxi, marveling at the large building while it drove away behind them. Mundanes couldn't see the magnificence of the Institute, but it was there, true and wonderful.

"Come on." Fey led them to the doors and they slipped in quickly, unwatched and not followed. They stood in the entrance, taking a few seconds to feel the slight change of temperature difference. Then Fey and Kyle started walking, Christina and Marina following hurriedly, startled out of their dazes.

"Do they know we're coming?" Christina asked, talking for the first time since Fey's outburst at the Subway restaurant. Fey glanced at her over her shoulder.

"They should," she answered. "Grey told me he sent a letter to them." Fey didn't know _when _exactly he had sent the letter, but she was confident enough that he had sent it. She potted something in the corner of her eye that made her grin: an elevator. "Come on."

Kyle stopped her, catching her arm when she tried to pass him.

"What?" she said, annoyed.

"Shouldn't we ring first?" Kyle asked, nodding his head in the direction Fey assumed the bell was.

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I mean, we could wait here if you like, until someone comes, but I would rather we just went up there and tried to find someone. Preferably the guardians."

Kyle frowned a little, chewing on the inside of his lip while he thought. The sight made Fey smile; it was a habit he had picked up from her when they first met, as he had been attached to her hip right from the start. She had thought him annoying at first, but then warmed up to him a considerable amount. They were so close to each other now. They knew what the other was thinking, feeling, and doing, no matter what it was. Nobody out of their 'family' knew the reasons why. They were just that close to other people and Shadowhunters.

A creak from the door caught their attention, throwing them all into action at the same time. The Shadowhunters flipped around so fast that they were a blur, turning towards the door and reaching for their weapons. Fey had one hand on her belt, her other hand on her left shoulder to grab the long knife that she kept strapped there. Kyle was beside her, one of his hands on his own belt and the other on Fey's other shoulder to grab the long knife she kept there for him.

Christina and Marina were much the same, hands on their own belts in anticipation, though neither of them were helping each other or working together. Fey made a note in her mind to have some strong words with them later.

The door opened wider, and a figure came inside, shutting it behind her. The girl was tall and beautiful with long black hair and large dark eyes. Her full pouty lips were pale pink and Fey could see that although she was mostly covered, her Marks were visible. They wavered slightly, as if heat were emitting off of them, conveying the fact that she was wearing a glamour. The stopped abruptly when she caught sight of the four Shadowhunters that were tense in anticipation of a fight.

The girl tensed herself, slim hand going to her wrist where Fey saw little gold bracelets. She realized with a start that they weren't actually bracelets, but one long golden whip coiled around her wrist. She was impressed, though not intimidated. Shadowhunters didn't hurt fellow Shadowhunters. Not seriously, anyway.

"Can I help you?" the girl called out, her voice wary and warning. She took a few steps forward, stopping when she was a couple of feet away from the group. Fey relaxed herself, hands swaying loosely at her sides; her companions followed suit, trusting her.

She stepped forward, meeting the girl. They were both the same height, but that was where the similarities ended. Fey was almost the exact opposite of this girl. Fair hair, lightly tanned skin, bright blue eyes, and dark pink full lips that weren't pouty. She extended her hand to the other girl.

"Yes, actually, we were sent here by our guardian from the London Institute to help the residents of this Institute. I am Fey Youngcross, and this is Kyle Whitelaw"—she motioned him forward as she spoke, flicking her fingers toward her without looking back—"his sister Marina Whitelaw"—Marian stepped forward at another of Fey's finger-motions—"and Christina Lovelace. We're sorry we couldn't get here any earlier, there were some—issues to work out." She flashed the girl a wry smile.

Meanwhile, the girl looked confused. "What do you mean, you were sent here? We weren't aware anyone was coming—at least, _I _wasn't. I'm Isabelle, by the way. Isabelle Lightwood." She took Fey's extended hand and shook it firmly.

"My mother should be here somewhere… or I could just go ask Jace. Maybe he'll know what to do. Sorry, my father isn't here at the moment. He's in—Idris." Isabelle waved her hand in the air dismissively with a roll of her eyes. "Come on, let's go inside."

She stalked off toward the elevators, the others trailing behind her. Fey was surprised; Marian hadn't said a single thing since her lecture in the restaurant. Maybe she was finally getting some sense.

The emerged from the elevator a few minutes later. They walked behind Isabelle through several hallways, reminded of the hallways of their own home. Fey thought it the London Institute as her home; because it felt like home to her now. For so long, it hadn't felt like anything to her except a giant empty building. But as time passed, she realized just how much it was a part of her. It was a place she could call home without a second thought.

Finally, Isabelle stopped at a door. She opened it without knocking and stuck her head in. A few minutes later, two people came out. One of them was a tall, muscular, golden-haired boy with gold eyes to match. He had an arm wrapped around the second figure, who was a small red-headed girl with green eyes and freckles covering her nose. Fey was struck with a sense of familiarity as she stared at this girl who stared back at her, looking much the way Fey was feeling.

"Guys," Isabelle said, bringing Fey back to attention. "This is Jace"—she gestured to the boy, who waved a little at them—"and this is Clary." The red-headed girl smiled shyly and waved at them, her eyes flickering to Fey several times as she tried to look everyone in the eye.

Time seemed to slow down for Fey. _Clary._ She knew that name. She knew this girl. This red-headed girl who was leaning against this golden-haired boy whom Fey didn't know. Clary. Clary Fray. Her childhood best friend. The best friend Fey had had to leave because of what she was. The only time she had ever felt bad about being a Shadowhunter.

"Clary," Fey repeated dazedly. "Clary, as in Clary _Fray?_"

Clary looked startled that her name was spoken with such familiarity by someone she had just met. She nodded, looking confused.

"How do you know my name?" Clary asked.

"Do you… Do you remember me, Clary?" Fey asked, tentatively. "It's me. Fey. Fey Youngcross. We used to be best friends when we were little. Then we met Simon, Simon Lewis; do you remember that?"

Clary tilted her head to the side, as if to look at Fey from a different angle. The she tilted it to the other side. Her eyes seemed cloudy, fogged over, as if she were in a different time and place. Then her eyes seemed to slowly come back into focus, brightening up a considerable amount, just the way Fey remembered they did whenever she was excited or proud of herself, or happy.

"…Fey?" she whispered tentatively. "I don't really remember you… _much._ But you're in there somewhere. I remember you, Simon, and me when we were little… and then you were gone. Where did you go?"

Fey smiled a sad smile at her. "That's a story for another time, sorry."

Clary frowned, but nodded. Isabelle and Jace and Fey's family just looked between them, looking lost.

"Well," Isabelle said, as if nothing had happened, "yeah. This is Jace and Clary. And my brother's traveling with his—boyfriend." This was met with silence. Fey realized, along with her friends, that Isabelle expected a negative reaction. She didn't get one form them, though.

"That's cool," Fey said. She was nonchalant, smiling easily. Around Shadowhunters her own age. Hardly any of the Shadowhunters that came by the London Institute were all adults, uptight and business-like. There had only been two teenage guests ever in her time living there, and they hadn't been very interesting.

Then, all of a sudden, there was an intake of air. There wasn't anything unusual about it. Except that it was an inhale from _Marina's_ mouth. Before she could make a sarcastic comment, Fey, Kyle, and Christina dove toward her. Three hands clapped themselves over her mouth; Fey's, then Kyle's and then Christina's.

To put it nicely, Marina was _not_ happy.

"Does _anything _I say mean anything to you?" Fey cried incredulously.

Marina's answering scowl said more than words could.

**A/N: This is a rewrite of the first chapter, I repeat. I will probably use the original along the road again later… somehow. If anyone wants to see the original themselves, PM me and I'll send it to you. **

**Please review, I want to know what you guys think! :) **

**Ciao!**

**~Alee V.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay. Well, I got some pretty good feedback from the first chapter of Forgotten. I will take that as a good sign and continue the story with the second chapter. From here on out, I'll update only if I get two reviews on the STORY. It doesn't have to be on the most recent chapter. **

**So, that said, thanks to **_**Appoli **_**and **_**Guest**_** for reviewing. I know that "Guest" isn't the penname, but just bear with me. :) **

**Read on! Review?**

* * *

Fey sat in her new room on her new bed, gazing up at the ceiling as if it held all the secrets of the universe. Two hours ago she, Christina, Kyle, and Marina had all been settled in at the Institute by both Isabel and her mother Maryse. It had been a very kind gesture, and they had been welcomed warmly by the older woman, all things considered.

"We're here to help you with things," Fey had said after shaking her hand. "Grey told you everything, right?"

Maryse had nodded with a slightly uncomfortable smile. "Yes, of course. I was just so busy I forgot to tell everyone. But never mind that for now; come, we'll help you get settled into your rooms."

Flash forward two hours and Fey was done putting her clothes into her closet and lying down on her bed with nothing to do. She wasn't the type of person who _liked_ having nothing to do; it made her twitchy and nervous. When she was younger, her father had made sure she'd always had something to do; gardening, training, piano practice, origami—whatever else he was learning about as he traveled around to take care of problems that arose around New York.

She had to leave New York when her mother and father died; Grey took her in after she'd been administered to foster care for about four months. How he'd managed to find her from all the way in London, she had no clue. All she knew was that she was grateful he had.

There was a knock at the door, so sudden it jarred her out of her thoughts. The door cracked open, and Kyle stuck his head in, peering around in the dark space. His eyes found her lying on the bed, propped up on one elbow to look at him.

"I'm not interrupting a nap, am I?" he asked teasingly.

Fey smirked. "Of course not. What's up?" She slid off the bed in relief; finally, something to _do._

"I finished unpacking about a half an hour ago, and did a little exploring—,"

"Exploring," she interrupted, her expression and tone turning skeptical. "Is that what you call it? I don't know, 'snooping around' sounds pretty dead on to me."

Kyle shot her a playful glare. "As I was _saying,_" he continued pointedly, "I found something we could both check out. A music room filled with instruments, including a _piano._"

Fey pushed past him, out of the room. "You had me at music room."

~0~

"No, no, that's not it! It's not C, it's A."

"Well, fine then, miss expert! Show me how it's done."

"Gladly."

Fey and Kyle were in the music room now, both sitting on the bench before the piano, occupying each side. They'd been at it for about an hour now, having practiced any songs that they knew, or were learning. So far, they were on "How to Save a Life" by The Fray.

Fey slipped her small, slender hands over Kyle's larger ones. "It's like _this._" She pressed down on his fingers, and moved them over to the following keys, slower than she would usually play for Kyle's benefit.

"Ah," he said now, starting to move his fingers with hers still over his. "I think I see now."

At this, Fey smiled; whenever Kyle claimed he "saw" something, it was always because he was either getting irritated, or even more lost than before. She knew it was the latter by his chipper tone.

"_Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend, somewhere along in the bitterness. And I would have stayed up with you all night, had I known how to save a life…_" she sang softly along to the music. This was one of her favorite songs for those days when she just couldn't seem to get out of a sad mood. Of course, it only made her sadder, but she felt a little better too for having expressed it a bit.

"So Maryse was nice," Kyle said conversationally. His fingers kept playing, pressing the keys lightly so they weren't as loud.

"Mhmm," she agreed, nodding her head as she slipped her hands off Kyle's. They tingled ever so slightly when she touched skin with Kyle, and the sensation still lingered after she put them in her lap. It was weird, she thought.

"And it was quite lucky," he continued, "that Marina didn't say a word to her about anything. She just nodded and smiled. Well, at least I _think_ that was a smile. It could have been mistaken for a grimace."

Fey laughed, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. "Don't say that! That's mean!"

"Then why are you laughing?" he laughed, grinning at her. She merely rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm glad you said what you did back there, though. I'm hoping you've talked some sense into her once and for all." His tone was uncharacteristically serious for Kyle.

"Nobody talks sense into Marina," Fey said gravely, looking him sagely in the eye. She shook her head and sighed, hooking her arm through his and leaning her head on his shoulder. He rested his head on hers after a moment, sighing calmly.

"What do you think Christina is up to?" he asked after a long moment of silence.

She shrugged, not moving her head from his shoulder. "I don't know. Probably organizing her collection of artifacts, informational history books, and all of her other old stuff into her room. She's still a history freak, that one. But you knew that."

"I did." He nodded, his head rubbing against hers. She rubbed his head back. "Show me one of your more intense piano lessons. The ones where your fingers move so fast I can't see them, and they're just a blur, moving across the keys and making such beautiful sounds it's hard to believe you're even trying."

"That's awfully poetic, for you," she said, moving back and eying him with a lopsided smile on her lips.

He shrugged, his cheeks turning slightly pinkish. "You know I like to write sometimes..."

"I do."

"So will you show me?"

"Of course." And so, with a flourished crack of her knuckles-and a wince from Kyle-she began to play.

Her fingers moved slowly, almost lazily across the keys at first. But then she gradually picked up speed, going faster and faster and faster and faster still, closing her eyes to better "feel the music" in her fingertips. She felt it in more than just her fingertips; her entire being felt alive with the power of the music flowing in and through her, out of her fingers and into the piano where it all became real and audible. She loved and relished the feeling, smiling and biting her lip with closed eyes now as she played.

And then the music came to a slow stop, the song ending almost as slowly as it began, her fingers stilling on the keys. Fey took in a deep breath, eyes still closed, and then opened them.

As the world came into focus, she realized that throughout the entire time that she'd been playing, she had accumulated an audience.

Jace, the blonde-haired golden eyed boy, was sitting on another stool across the room from where she and Kyle sat; Isabelle, the girl who welcomed them, sat next to him on the stool, watching her with wide black eyes.

"You've got quite the audience," Kyle muttered, and something in his tone caused her to look back over her shoulder. In the doorway stood Christina, smiling and leaning on the doorjamb.

"You couldn't resist, could you?" she said wryly, her mouth twisting to the side in a smile.

"He asked me to," Fey defended herself, but it was only half-hearted. She probably would've found this place soon enough and played the beautiful instrument she'd just had the pleasure of playing.

"Where'd you learn to play like that?" The question came from Isabelle, who now stood up and came to stand against the piano in front of Fey.

Fey shrugged. "My father made me learn." She didn't elaborate, and hoped she wouldn't be asked to.

Much to her relief, Isabelle just nodded.

"My father tried to get me to learn," Jace said, talking for the first time since Fey noticed him.

"He didn't have any luck, I assume?"

"Not much. I was a difficult child."

"So was I." Fey half smiled. Oh, yes; she'd been a _very _difficult child.

"You still are," Kyle said.

Fey scoffed. "I am _not _a child."

"Really? Is that what they've told you?"

"I don't need them -whoever _they_ are- to tell me whether I'm a child or not. I would know."

"Have you _met_ yourself?"

"Yes, actually, I _have_, thank you very much. I've also met _you,_ sir. You should really do something about your secret habits. Closets don't always hide _everything, _you know."

Kyle's eyes widened suddenly. "What have you seen in my closet?"

"I don't think you'd want that revealed in front of an audience." Fey smiled wider at his alarm. Really, she was just running her mouth.

"What did you see?"

"My lips are sealed."

"_What did you see?_"

"What, do you have some sort of secret you don't want anyone to know? I can say it all right now if you want me to!"

"Who is Clary Fray?"

Silence stretched through the room, and Fey's playful smile slid off her face. "What?"

"Who is Clary Fray?" Kyle repeated. He looked like he regretted asking the question. All eyes were on him and Fey now, waiting for her response, her reaction.

"She was an old friend, that's all," Fey said quietly, staring down at her lap.

"Why do I not believe you?" Kyle asked.

"You happen to have issues," she quipped, trying not to sound hurt. She didn't think she quite managed it.

"Fey. Look at me." She complied reluctantly. "Fey," he repeated. "Who is Clary Fray?"

"We knew each other when we were young," she said after a moment of silence. "We were best friends, her and I. Always hanging out with each other, sharing secrets. I didn't go to school with her-my father taught me at home-but she didn't think to question it, and her mother didn't think to ask about it. Had her mother known, I wouldn't have known her as long as I did. When I started my training, I told her about it, but the next time I brought it up, she'd forgotten about it. I kept a journal, a journal my _mother _gave me, so she could read it and try to remember. Sometimes she would, but other times it was hopeless.

"She saw things from our world, though. I suspected it often. I took her with me to Central Park once, and went near the faeries' spot. She saw some of them, but immediately after she saw them, she just... wouldn't. It was like her mind was pushing the images away, like she was rubber and they were glue, and they just bounced off her and stuck somewhere else. And then I realized that she had something that was _making _her forget. Her Sight was blinded. And her mother was helping that happen.

"I also knew that Jocelyn was a former Shadowhunter. I could see the rune scars all over her skin, but I knew better than to comment. I knew Clary was one of us. So I kept writing in that journal, kept making her remember. The journal was also kind of a little outlet for me, too. It was special 'cause my mother gave it to me-for reasons you don't have to know," Fey said abruptly, remembering Jace and Isabelle in the room.

"Everything was going alright after that for a few years. But then I turned twelve, and I got my first Mark. I ran over to tell Clary as soon as it was over, covering myself up so that Jocelyn wouldn't see. I must've not covered up enough, though. I ran into Clary's room, shoved the journal at her to read, and showed her my Mark. I was so excited I forgot to be quiet. We must've been talking pretty loudly. A few minutes after we were talking, she burst into the bedroom, saw my Mark, and started screaming at me.

"She screamed such horrible things about us, calling us heartless monsters and killers, and I shouted right back at her, 'I wouldn't talk! You were one of us, too!' She didn't answer me. Instead, she grabbed my arm, and my journal, and dragged me out of their apartment, throwing me out the door. She kept the journal, though, and when I tried to jump back in, she slammed the door on me. I pounded on the door, demanded that she give me back what was rightfully mine, but she didn't. She just threatened to call the police if I didn't split.

"I tried so hard to get it back. I really did. I even broke in once when they were out. But when I looked around, all I found was a garbage bag full of ashes under the sink. Skip five years, and here I am now. Meeting her again. Just like before."

Fey was met with silence and astonished stares.

"Jocelyn Fray," Jace said slowly, breaking the ice. "_Jocelyn Fray_ did all of that to you? That's unbelievable."

"Don't think of her as some evil bad guy, alright?" Fey looked at all of them, particularly at Christina and Kyle's angered expressions. "She was actually pretty nice to me before she found out. She was just trying to protect her daughter form a life of war and blood. We dont' have kids; we wouldn't understand. Yes, I am mad about my journal." She swallowed. "But it's in the past."

"In the past," Kyle scoffed. "What she did was _unforgivable._ I wouldn't let go of that so lightly."

"I'm not." Fey looked at him with level eyes. "I'm just putting it behind me as best I can."

~0~

"So how did you meet Simon? I've meant to ask."

Fey looked up from her glass of wine at Isabelle. She couldn't help but wonder if she heard the slightest hint of jealousy in her tone. _I'm just imagining it_, she thought to herself.

"Oh, well, I met him when she slept over at Clary's apartment one night. She set us up to meet, and we've been best friends ever since. I was about eight, then."

"Ah." Isabelle nodded to herself, and then chugged down the rest of her full glass of wine. She'd offered it to Fey and her friends after the incident in the music room as a sort of peace-offering of sorts. They'd accepted. While Fey's father hadn't approved, he hadn't objected to her extremely early tolerance for alcohol. Every Shadowhunter kid she'd ever met-not very many-had gotten an early start at drinking. It wasn't uncommon.

"You guys have met him, right?" Fey asked. Jace and Isabelle nodded. "How... how is he?"

Isabelle shared a look with Jace. She turned back to Fey with a forced smile. "Why don't you see for yourself tomorrow. I'm sure Clary will tell him you're here, and you guys can meet up with him tomorrow. I'm going to see him later, too, so it works out for everyone. Okay?"

Fey nodded, trying not to look disappointed. "Okay." Beside her, Kyle let out a huge yawn, bringing one out of her, and then Christina, and eventually Jace and Isabelle. "I think I'm gonna go to bed. I've had three glasses of wine. If I'm not drunk yet, I will be!" She let out a peal of uncharacteristic giggles, and then hiccupped loudly, covering her mouth with her hand and muttering a dainty, "Excuse me."

Kyle rolled his eyes, smiling knowingly at her. "You are so interesting when you're drunk," he remarked. When she failed to comment, just lolling back on the sofa she was sitting beside him on, he got the idea she wasn't as drunk as she thought. She was worse.

Fey swung her legs over the side of the sofa, pushing herself up to stand. She stayed steady on her feet, standing there with a triumphant grin on her face, until she moved to take a step. She nearly toppled over, and would have if Kyle hadn't acted fast and caught her before she hit the floor. She gasped, giggling uncontrollably now.

"I almost fell!" she laughed. Her arm was thrown over his shoulder, the only thing keeping her upright. "I don't think I can walk..."

"Of course you can't. You're drunk, silly." Kyle decided to humor her and play along, remembering just how... _difficult _she could be when she was drunk and didn't get her way.

"No, _you're_ silly," she said, words slurred; she tapped the tip of his nose playfully, grinning widely up at him. Her eyes were bright from the alcohol, her cheeks flushed. Her hair was slightly mussed from running her hands through it too much. The edges of her vision were beginning to blur; a sure sign that she was definitely drunk.

She yelped suddenly, when Kyle swooped down and scooped her up into his arms, carrying her out of the room and into the hallway. She smacked his shoulder none too lightly. "Kyle!"

"Well, this gets us to your room faster," he grumbled.

"Whate'er," Fey mumbled. She sighed and buried her head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. She felt him relax as he gently swung her back and forth in time with his steps. It was a lulling rhythm, coaxing her to sleep...

But, of course, the peace could only last for so long.

"Decided to come undone on the first night, eh, Fey?" Marina's voice carried to them from the other end of the hallway. They were at Fey's door now; Marina had decided to occupy a room a full hallway away form the others. Out of spite, of course.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Fey said. Her words sounded crisp and clear, no longer slurred and lazy; you couldn't even tell she was drunk at all. Everything came into focus when Fey had an objective; she snapped back to herself because she knew that Marina wouldn't ever let this go if it ended badly. She would hold it over Fey, taunting her every chance she got. _I can't believe you got drunk on the first day..._

"Oh please," Marina sneered, "I can smell the wine on you from all the way over here. You can't tell me you aren't drunk. We all know how you get around alcohol..."

"What are you doing up past curfew? You ought to be in bed now."

"We don't have a curfew. We're not in London, Fey."

"Uh, actually, _yes_ we do have a curfew. No later than midnight, remember? I was there when Grey told you the rules." Fey disentangled herself from Kyle and walked steadily over to Marina until they were arm's-length apart. She crossed her arms and glared at the younger girl. "Last I checked, you lived under his roof the past five or six years."

"And last _I _checked," Marina said, getting into her face, "Grey isn't here!"

Fey leaned closer, making sure that Marina could see how angry she was. "And last I checked, I'm seventeen and you're fourteen. I'm three years your senior. You don't speak to me that way. And you _especially_ don't talk about Grey that way. Go to your room and _stay _there. This isn't helping your case with your phone."

Marina's lips parted, and her face went slack. She spun around hurriedly and walked quickly away, shoulders hunched.

Fey let out a shaky breath; when she turned to Kyle, his eyes widened. She was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and her breathing was labored. He rushed over to her, scooped her up again, and ran to her room, throwing the door open and running into the bathroom inside. He quickly, yet gently set her in front of the toilet and held her hair as she threw up violently in it. He didn't seem to mind the smell or sight of her vomit, she noticed as she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. She stood up on wobbly legs; Kyle held her steady by putting an arm around her waist.

He offered her toothbrush, and she took it with a grateful expression, turning on the faucet and beginning the ritual that she'd memorized at a young age. She had learned it from her father, after watching him get drunk at parties and gatherings with people she'd never met, never wanted anything to do with. She would wake up to the sound of his violent up-chuck in the middle of the night and get up to watch and help him since she was awake and it was something to do. She would offer him his worn toothbrush and sit on the toilet tank as she watched him thoroughly wash the foulness out of his mouth.

"I hope you never have to go through this," he said to her one night after a particularly messy appearance of all the wine and food he had consumed at the party. "It's absolutely degrading and nasty."

_Yet here I am_, she thought as she rinsed her mouth with mouthwash. She dried her face with a towel, her eyes meeting Kyle's in the mirror. Moss green and sky blue. His eyes weren't judgemental as she kept waiting for them to be; he'd caught her in this 'place' plenty of times. Each time she thought he had to be at least a little disgusted with her, or tired of her behavior. But his demeanor and words indicated otherwise. He didn't think any less of her.

His eyes were understanding and warm; she knew he would always be that way, no matter what. Just as she would always be toward him, no matter what he did.

"Come on," he murmured now, tugging on her waist to move her. "You need to sleep." She let him help her stumble to the bed, let him lift her up onto it, let him take her shirt off and leave her in her tank top. He attempted to help her with her jeans, but she swatted his hands away and said, "I can do it myself!"

Still, in the end he had to tug them off her ankles, keeping his eyes squeezed shut at her command, and tossing her a pair of basketball shorts. Kyle helped her under the covers of the large bed and was about to leave when she reached out and got a hold of his wrist.

"Wait," Fey murmured, sounding tired, "don't leave me. I can't sleep. Tell me a story."

"A story," Kyle mused as he took off his shoes and climbed on the bed beside her. Sleeping in the same bad wasn't unusual for them; they did it before at the London Institute when they were younger and couldn't sleep at night. They shared each other's nightmares and secret dreams, stared up at the same ceiling and looked out at the same stars. They were closer than friends, closer than family.

"A story," Fey repeated.

"Well, let's see. Once, there was a little girl who lived in the woods. Nobody knew what her name was because they always called her a nickname by the thing she always wore: Little Red Riddinghood. Her grandmother was sick in the woods, so her mother sent her to give her grandmother some food to make her better..."

"Does this story have a happy ending?" Fey asked, sounding even more tired than before. She was struggling to keep her eyes open. Kyle let out a loud yawn.

"Depends on how you look at it, I guess," he replied. He settled more into the bed, over the covers beside Fey, who lay underneath the covers. She turned on her side where Kyle was and rested her head on his chest, her arm following. Her hand rested over his heart, and she could feel the thrum of it under her fingertips. It had a lulling effect, luring her closer to sleep.

"Now, this is a good story," she murmured.

"What? 'Little Red Riddinghood'? Sounds a little morbid, if you ask me..." Kyle trailed off, sounding just as sleepy as she did.

"No, your heartbeat. It brings me to sleep every time. I never, ever get tired of hearing it. This is the one story I hope I won't have to hear the end of."

She didn't hear Kyle's reponse -didn't know if he even responded, because the moment the words left her mouth, she was asleep.

* * *

**So... how was it? Please tell me in a review! I'll have her meet Simon in the next chapter. It'll only come if you review, though! Two reviews, and I'll update! **

**Ciao!**

**~Alee V.**


	3. I Bear Bad News Please Read

Hey everybody, this isn't an update; sorry if you thought it was. I'm gonna just come out with it: I'm on computer probation. Meaning that I will be torn from my computer, NOOK, and MP3 player until the end of the year. A whole FREAKING THREE MONTHS. That means no updates for... a long while. I know this is unexpected and cruel, but you can thank my mother for it. Any probation and lack of updates you can thank HER for.

It breaks my heart because I was so freaking close to making it up to a close point on a lot of my stories, but apparently my mom just LOVES to punish me. She says she's sorry, but I can see it in her eyes; She's not. She never is. I have just enough time to write and post this up because she just went to work.

Lately my brother and I have been nothing but disappointments to her. I don't mean to spill my whole life story to you guys; you don't wanna hear it. I won't be on here until 2013, or unless God decides I've learned my lesson, and makes my mother give me my stuff back.

If and when I ever get the chance to type or post a chapter on a story, I promise I will. I'll keep writing in journals, and stuff. At the chance, I will post. It won't be for a long while, yet, though, so don't get your hopes up. This is absolutely heartbreaking for me. I am so, so sorry. This is going on all of my fanfics, jsyk.

I'm going on a withdrawl on everything; Reading, Writing, Web-surfing, and worst of all, MUSIC. It's all gone. Just like that. I'm crying as I type this.

So, with that said, I say goodbye to you guys. See you next year.

-Alee V.


	4. Chapter 3

**Hello, everybody! I know, I know: It's already 2013, why hasn't she updated yet? **

**Well, see, the thing is, I'm still not given full access to my laptop. I'm allowed 2 hours. Now, I don't know about any of you guys, but 2 hours just doesn't work for me. So, progress is slow, at best. **

**Anyways, I have a tumblr! forever - musical - alee *dot* tumblr *dot* com. Obviously you have to remove the spaces and put in periods. But there. I made it so I could tell you when/what the progress of the next chapter to any story, some fun facts, some snippets to all fanfics, and even some original stuff if you guys want. I'm hoping it'll be fun. I also made it to let you guys know that I'm not dead, just working. ;) Yeah. So please follow if you have a tumblr! Bear with me though, I'm pretty knew to tumblr, so I'm trying to get the hang of it still. If anyone can give me some tips, they're welcome and much appreciated! **

**Anyway, please read and review! Enjoy this chapter!**

**Read on~**

* * *

Fey knew she was dreaming when she saw her surroundings. She stood at the edge of the forest line, at the very end of what seemed to be a village, though there weren't any houses - besides the one she was standing before - around for a wide range of space. She felt strangely at peace, walking away from any civilization and into the woods without a second thought.

She walked on, looking wonderously at the tall trees, the halo of light that surrounded almost everything except the path she was walking on. Little critters scurried by here and there, but she didn't pay them any attention. It wasn't until she tried to look behind her that she realized what she was wearing.

A plaid, short-sleeved, knee-length dress of black, red, and white covered her, and she saw the white stalkings on her legs, the black shoes on her feet. She realized that she was also carrying a basket filled with food and drinks and sweets. And the one thing that she found most baffling to be wearing: a long red hood.

_Oh._

A smile tugged at the ends of her lips. Fey knew what this was now. She was dreaming about Kyle's story - she was Little Red Ridinghood. She gave a little giggle. _How silly, _she thought. _What a strange thing to dream about._ Nonetheless, she kept walking down the path, hood drawn up, coming closer and closer to her destination. She kept waiting, though, for the wolf to show up.

But he never did. Fey reached the cottage in the middle of the woods without interruption, which she thought was odd. _Am I just not remembering the story correctly?_ she thought to herself as she walked into the cottage. _Maybe the wolf comes later on in the story..._

"Hello?" she called, sticking to her part. "Grandma? I've brought you food to make you better, Grandma. Where are you? It's me, Little Red..." Fey trailed off, realizing that she wasn't going to get an answer. She walked further into the cottage, years of Shadowhunter training making her alert to anything unusual or out of place. She scanned the living room carefully with her eyes, moving on to the bedroom. It was empty, just like the rest of the house.

"What?" Fey muttered to herself. "What is this?" She set the basket down and sat on the edge of the bed, sighing. "What a strange dream..." She decided then to get out of there and try to wake herself up. There wasn't any point in wasting time in an empty cottage anyway. She was just as restless in her dreams as she was when she was awake. She stood up from the bed and went to take a step-

Only to end up tripping on the basket. She went down on her hands and knees, cursing herself in her head. _Idiot,_ she thought at herself. _You should've been more careful!_ Sighing frustratedly, she looked up - and realized that she wasn't in the cottage anymore. She couldn't tell where she was anymore; there wasn't much light to work with.

The was a faint blue halo surrounding certain parts of the vast plain she was now in. Fey spun around a full 360 degrees to get a look at her surroundings - and realized that she was no longer wearing the Little Red Ridinghood getup; she was clothed in Shadowhunter gear this time. She breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar clothing, taking stock of her weapons - or rather, lack of them. The only thing she had was her stele, which she promptly took out and drew several runes into her skin - a Night Vision rune, a Soundless rune, and a rune for combat, just in case.

Fey walked a few steps forward to get her bearings with the Night Vision rune, letting it take effect. On her second and third steps, a bloodcurdling scream pierced the silence of the unknown place she was in. Immediately, Fey burst into action; she ran in the direction of the scream, but stopped a second later when the scream abruptly cut off. There was a muffled sound, like a heavy object being dragged on the floor, and then total silence again. Fey held her breath, listening for more.

Just when she thought the coast was clear, there was a soft cry, like someone was trying to keep from screaming, but couldn't quite manage it. Fey ran once again toward it, but she knew it was too late. Whatever had cut off the other girl - she was sure by the sound of their voices that they were female - had found this girl; she screamed, and was cut off just like before. And just like before, there was that dragging noise, and then the silence resumed.

There was something about this silence, though, that made the hairs on the back of Fey's neck stand straight on end. It seemed to say something to her, smugly and with cruel eagerness. _Your turn._

Defiance rose up within Fey, along with a faint trace of nerves. She took a quiet, deep breath, and then walked steadily through the building; her Night Vision rune had finally kicked in, and she knew exactly where not to step and what this place was. It was a building full of debris; broken beams from the ceiling crossed her path, and she had to weave her way in between them to make her way through it all. She knew somehow where to go; it seemed like there was a gravitational pull luring her to one room of this building in particular.

The room in question was dimly illuminated by candles. Black candles, as a matter of fact; _Black magic,_ Fey thought. A wary feeling settled in her stomach. At the end of the room on a raised dais was a sort of glass coffin. It was definitely see-through; Fey's eyes widened when she noticed that the big black shape inside was actually a human body. _What is this?_ she thought, horrified. Her lips parted slightly. An echo of the first girl's bloodcurdling scream resonated in her head, and she snapped her lips shut. She did not want the same fate as the girl's, even in a dream. _This is not a dream,_ she thought. _It's more like the soft beginnings of a nightmare._

The same graviational pull that drove her to this room began to lure her towards the coffin. Much to her own horror, Fey followed without complaint. The unsettled feeling in her stomach intensified, alarm rising the closer she got to the coffin. She noticed markings on the floor as she grew nearer. A pentagram was drawn into the floor; as she stepped into the circle, a shiver of cold washed over her entire body. She realized then that the room was cold. It was almost as cold as the London Institute in the beginning of winter; sharp and cruel, chilling to the bone. Her breath came out in faint puffs that she could see with her Night Vision.

She stopped beside the coffin. It was sealed closed, and a dark liquid filled it inside. The body lay still and undisturbed. Now that she was up close, she could examine; fighting down the urge to shudder, of course. The body turned out to be a young man, a teenager, really. He looked about seventeen, nineteen at the most, with white-blond hair, sharp facial features. His feet and chest were bare, but there was something about his chest that called her attention. It was Marked with several runes, just like any Shadowhunter's; just like Kyle's, just like her own. But there was a specific Mark on this boy's chest that stood out at her; instead of black, this one was bloodred, on the left side of his chest, an angry swirl of lines that stayed imprinted against the insides of her eyelids when she blinked.

_Evil_. She knew that instinctively. The longer she stared, the worse she felt. There was something wrong about this boy. He was obviously dead, but she felt that wasn't it. He was dead and _waiting._ Though for what, Fey couldn't tell.

The red Mark on the boy's chest seemed to stand out just to her. She wasn't sure if it was the Night Vision rune making it appear as if it was glowing ever so slightly, but it was. Almost without thinking, she removed a hand from her mouth - she'd covered her mouth with them when she'd seen the mark - and reached it out toward the Mark on his chest. It trembled slightly from nerves and a hint of fear. As she did, the glass covering that sealed the coffin shut seemed to disappear; it was no longer there when she touched the boy's chest. She laid her hand hesitantly over the Mark on his chest; right over his heart. There was no beat beneath her fingers.

The instant her skin touched the boy's, the Mark flared with red light so bright Fey wanted to close her eyes and look away, but she didn't. She snatched her hand away, nearly jumping out of her own skin. _What the bloody hell was that?_

There was another flare of light beside her and the coffin, much brighter than that of the Mark. This time, Fey did close her eyes and look away. When the light died down, she was left staring at a monster - a Greater Demon, to be exact. She reacted purely on instinct - she grabbed the nearest thing she could use for a weapon - a sharp metal rod from the floor - and held it like a sword in defensive stance, ready to fight if she had to.

The Greater Demon in question was much like the mundanes' vision of Medusa from their mythology; snakes for hair, gray scaly skin, and claws for fingers. Unlike most demons, though, this one had a particularly _old_ feeling to it. Almost as though it was centuries old; you could feel the old power emmitting from it like static.

It lifted a hand up, and Fey tensed, ready to fight; but the Demon's mouth opened and spoke. "Peace, Shadowhunter," it said, lifting a hand toward her. "I do not come to fight. I shall not attack you, so long as you exert the same restraint toward me."

Fey didn't trust a word this Demon - obviously female, though genders weren't important - said, but she still lowered the metal rod, holding it straight out just in case. The demon's soulless black eyes followed her every movement.

"What is your name?" it asked.

"Fey Youngcross," Fey said, tilting her chin up by a fraction. The formality, the civility of the whole situation was unnerving; what was this demon's motive? What did it want with her?

"Fey," the demon repeated. It paused, and then proceeded to drift around Fey in a circle, inspecting her with those unblinking eyes. Fey drew up her weapon, but then lowered it at a glance from the demon. Something told her she didn't want to face its wrath.

Finally, coming back around in front of her, the demon spoke again. "Indeed," it said, its lips twitching in what seemed to be its equivalent of a smile. "You are as beautiful as the creatures you were named after. Strong. Smart. Brave." It paused again, eyes sliding toward the boy in the coffin beside Fey.

"How would you know that?" Fey asked, unnerved at the way the demon was walking about her; almost as if it knew her. As if it had the slightest inkling who Fey was.

It looked at her with a knowing look in its eyes that made Fey's skin crawl. "Youngling," it said, "there are many things I know about you. Asking me how I have come to aquire such knowledge would be asking the wrong question. It would be foolish. I know that you are much smarter than that. Your parents raised you well."

Fey was taken aback. How did this demon know so much? Was it just assuming all of these things to get under her skin and steer her off her course? She knew she couldn't ask that. She had to ask the better question; the right questions first.

"What do you want?" She asked; the suspense was killing her. The cold had intensified with the Greater Demon's presence, alerting her even more to the depth of its power. She couldn't tell why or how, but it wanted something from her. And she needed to know what. "Who are you?"

The demon's attention snapped back to Fey, and it smiled at her, revealing sharp, gruesome teeth. "My dear," it purred delightedly. "You don't know who I am? I am Lilith. Mother of all demons."

It was like plunging your head into a bucket of icy water; Fey was suddenly more alert, standing straighter, holding on tighter to her metal rod. "What do you want?" she repeated, keeping her voice steady so as not to portray her fear.

Lilith looked at her, almost as if she were surprised. "You're the one," Lilith said. "You're the one I've been looking for all this time for - " She stopped abruptly, turning her head to gaze down at the dead boy in the coffin. Fey followed her gaze, though she saw nothing different. Still the same unknown boy in the coffin; she couldn't fathom what the Greater Demon wanted from her, a Shadowhunter that was automatically hated by all demons and most Downworlders. Without thinking, she glanced again around the room. Her eyes froze on a large pile of unidentifiable things off to the right and behind the Demon; the things in the pile started to take a familiar form the longer Fey stared at it. They were a tangled mess of... arms. And legs. Torsos. Bloody heads of hair. A giant pile of... female human bodies. All bloody and wounded and dead; lifeless faces staring up into the darkness. Fey's stomach churned and quivered in horror. She looked back at Lilith in shock and revulsion.

"Soon," Lilith said, a promise blazing in her eyes as she looked deeply into Fey's. "You are the one. I've found you. And you _aren't_ getting away from me."

* * *

Fey startled awake on the bed in a dreary darkness. She opened her eyes wider to glance at the window; based on the dull glow coming in, it was an early, cloudy morning. She sighed. _Another early wake._

That was when she realized there was a sound echoing in her ear; a repeating thump, followed by a slight rising and falling of her head. A heartbeat. Kyle's heartbeat to be exact, since he was still sleeping next to her. Her head rested on his chest, hence the heartbeat in her ear. Their legs were tangled, rather awkwardly, due to the fact that Fey was under the blanket and Kyle was not. He was still in the same clothes from yesterday; jeans and a black t-shirt. Fey felt a pang of guilt in her chest; thanks to her slight intoxication last night, he hadn't gone and changed into night clothes. He'd probably gone to sleep uncomfortable, not complaining because she hadn't wanted him to leave her alone.

_Stupid,_ she thought to herself. _You can't do that. He has his own needs to take care of. And so do you._

She needed to shower. She needed to start her day. She needed to brush her teeth and get rid of the awful, dry taste in her mouth.

Carefully, she lifted Kyle's arm and moved it over her, sliding her head off his chest and laying his arm down at his side. His breathing hitched a little, making her freeze in place, holding her breath in case he woke up. But he didn't; his breathing returned to normal, and he didn't stir anymore. She let out a quiet breath, and then quickly grabbed her things to get showered and dressed.

In the shower, she thought about her dream. What a strange dream she'd had; she couldn't even remember half of it. All she could remember was a basket, and a dress and a hood, possibly a coffin or something...

And then she drew a blank. It was frustrating to her that she couldn't remember her dream. She had the feeling that it was something incredibly important, something Fey _should_ remember, but just couldn't. She kept coming up against the same unbreakable wall. And hard as she tried, she couldn't break through it.

Sighing as she turned off the water, she wrung the water out of her long blond hair. _No matter,_ she thought, glancing at her warped form in the condensed mirror. _It'll come back to me eventually. I hope. _

Fey reached out a hand and wiped a circle into the foggy mirror big enough to see her face in it. The same sea-blue eyes, the same pale skin with a light sprinkle of golden freckles across her nose that were hardly visible. There wasn't anything different or changed about her. And yet she _felt_ that there was something different about her, something that wasn't there before. She frowned. _What could it be?_

Shaking her head, she dried herself and got dressed in a simple quarter-sleeved black shirt and jeans, putting on her favorite pair of combat boots. Her Clairvoyance rune on the back of her right hand seemed to stare at her as she laced up her boots. She remembered how excited she'd been to get the rune. How proud she was of herself, and how proud her parents were. Her mother was the stuck-up kind, the one who always wanted time to herself and didn't really like spending time with Fey; but her father - oh, her father was her partner in crime. Everything he did, she wanted to do. Whenever he went out on business, she wanted to go with him. Sometimes he took her, and if there was trouble, he would make her hide somewhere until it was safe for her to come out. She always watched him from her hiding place. She saw how fearless he was when he fought, how he never seemed to falter in his attacks when he was up against demons. He was so skilled, so smart and brave; he was everything she wanted to be.

Tears pricked her eyes. _No_, she told herself fiercely. She took a deep breath. Oh, how she missed him. _He wouldn't want you to cry over him._ _Be the warrior he said he knew you'd be. Get your day started. _

She stood up straight and glanced at herself in the mirror, fixing her shirt and running her hands through her hair before she quietly opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. She glanced at the bed to find Kyle still there. He was awake now, sitting up slightly and watching her as she smiled and walked over to the bed. She threw herself next to him, looking away from him at first, and then turning her head to look at him. He watched her expressionlessly for a few seconds, but then his face broke into a grin.

"Good morning, sunshine," She greeted him cheerfully. He yawned in response, stretching his arms up above his head. "Ew!" she said, waving a hand in front of her face to wave away his morning breath. She admired that he could do this without feeling self-conscious or embarrassed; he had a bad case of bedhead, morning breath, and yet he was so comfortable around her that he would actually yawn in her face. She rather liked that about him, instead of being opposed by it. It just made him more real; sometimes she thought him a dream. How could someone so understanding and kind and mischevous, someone who knew her thoughts and feelings better than anyone else, possibly be her best friend? She could hardly believe that he'd been sent to the London Institute sometimes, hardly believe that they'd ever met. Every time she woke up in the morining and found him at breakfast, she counted her blessings; having Kyle in her life was definitely number one.

She poked him under his arms in revenge. He jumped, his yawn cut off halfway, and he jerked his arms down hastily before she could try it again. Fey laughed at his sleepy glare.

"'Tis time to start the day, Mr. Whitelaw," she said to him, sliding off the bed. He caught her arms before she could get off all the way, whining in response.

"Nooo," he whined. "I wanna _sleep_. It's too early!"

Fey rolled her eyes. "All the more reason to get up! We can get more stuff done. Come on!"

"No! It's not even six in the morning! You woke me up with your shower at, like, five twenty..."

Fey could see he wasn't going to let up on this one. Rather than argue with him, she frowned and grunted at him, climbing back on the bed and sitting on her knees. He looked relieved and surprised that he'd won this round, but he didn't complain. He just dragged her down until she was lying on the bed, and then lay beside her, his head resting on her chest this time. He wrapped an arm around her waist, as if to keep her there at his side. Fey allowed this, but when he wrapped his arm around her, she saw that she wasn't getting out of this. She would be stuck with him until he woke up. Her right arm hovered in the air above his head, since she'd pulled it out before he could lie down; she draped it over his shoulders, softly peting his cheek with the back of her hand. Kyle let out a deep breath and relaxed his whole body. He was asleep within seconds.

Fey puffed out a sigh. _Now what?_ she thought, resigned. _I won't be doing anything for hours. Dammit!_ But then she thought about how he'd stayed last night with her when she'd asked him to, how he'd told her that ridiculous fairytale and fallen asleep with her instead of going back to his own room. All because she's asked him not to go. _It's the least I can do. I'll just have to deal._

Dealing was hard. For the next three hours she laid there and waited for him to wake up, just staring at the ceiling. She occupied herself by braiding her hair into dozens of small skinny braids in the first hour, and then letting them sit through the last two hours while she counted blessings and entertained fantasies.

_Two eyes are one,_ she counted. _Two arms are two. Two hands are three. Ten fingers are four..._

_What would I do if I were blind? What would I do if I were born in the years before modern medicine and got infected in my arm and had to chop it off? Which arm would I chop off? What if I had to chop off my hands, or got arthritis? What if I lost fingers in battle? What if..._

She was so entertained by these questions in her head that she didn't notice Kyle was awake and watching her until she glanced down to try to imagine what it would be like to live with a few toes missing on each foot. All throughout these fantasies she'd been making expressions; some of confusion, thoughtfulness, happiness, anger, sadness, and relief. As she gazed down at him with a slight frown on her face in reproach, she realized he'd been watching her for most of it, probably.

"Kyle!" she said. "How long have you been watching me like a creeper?"

"About a half hour," he answered lazily. He gave a small yawn.

Fey was irked by his response. A whole half hour that he'd been awake; a whole half hour that she could've been doing something productive - wasted! "You stared at me for a half hour straight?" she cried incredulously. "How were you not bored to death? And more importantly, how could you let a whole _thirty minutes_ pass by without saying a word and alerting me?"

He just shrugged and gave another yawn. _The twerp,_ Fey thought. She sat up abruptly, causing him to fall face first on the pillows. He groaned into them, and she laughed. "That's what you get."

"If I apologize, will it make you feel better?" he said mockingly, pushing his face off the pillow to speak. His amused smirk made Fey roll her eyes in response. "So... I guess not?"

Her only response was to slide off the bed and walk over to the door, leaving him to scramble off the bed to follow her.

"Where are we going?" he asked as they walked out of her room.

"Well, _you_ are going back to your room to change and shower," she said, continuing to walk away while he stopped in the middle of the hallway, "and _I_ am going to find somebody to talk about breakfast and today's plans. Hurry up, and maybe there'll be some food left."

Fey didn't turn around to see if he'd listened or not; she knew he would be gone before she could.

~0~

"You better have saved me some food, Fey, or I will-" Kyle cut himself off midsentence, probably realizing that there wasn't really anything he could or would do to Fey without putting his life at risk. "Do something you won't like," he stammered lamely.

Fey raised an eyebrow at him; she was half-bent over the dining table, leaning in close to Christina-who was still eating-and next to Isabelle, who looked at him amusedly. Without a word, Fey slid a plate of food across the table over to him; he blushed slightly. "Thank you," he mumbled, sitting down at the table and digging into his food.

"So, Isabelle," Fey said, turning her head to face the other girl, "have they identified the bodies they found so far?"

"Not all of them," Isabelle answered. "But from what I've heard, most of them were female Shadowhunters. Nobody I knew, thankfully, but still. Their families..." she trailed off.

Meanwhile, Fey's heart skipped a beat- and she wasn't sure why. What did their gender have anything to do with her? Just because they were girls and she was too? Why did it strike this kind of reaction in her?

"Fey, are you all right?" Christina asked by her side, voice full of concern. "You looked a little pale."

"I'm fine," Fey said, straightening up. "Just fine."

Everyone was watching her now. They didn't look like they believed her, and Isabelle looked a bit suspicious, but nobody commented. "It's just- doesn't it seem strange to you that the majority of the dead Shadowhunters were female? Do we know of any Downworlders or demons who favor females? Any Downworlders or demons who would be bold enough to actually seek them out and slaughter them?" Fey paced back and forth while she spoke her thoughts out loud.

"Wait a tick, Fey," Kyle said, holding up a hand for emphasis. "What are you talking about? What's all this about Downworlders and slaughtered Shadowhunters?"

"Christina, debrief him," Fey commanded. While Christina complied, Fey thought some more. Downworlders and demons didn't usually go out of their way to attack or pursue Shadowhunters, whether they had vendettas against them or their families or not. They wouldn't want to cause any trouble that could break the law and cost them their lives or worse. This was crazy - suicidal almost.

"That does seem pretty strange," Kyle admitted, "but those are just the bodies they've found - if there are any more. Hopefully not... It isn't all female Shadowhunters, though. There are males here and there as well. What's the worry, Fey? Scared they're gonna catch you next?"

Fey just looked at him. He averted his eyes quickly, point taken.

"I guess we'd better get going, then," Fey said to fill the silence. She was excited to leave - excited and nervous. She hadn't seen Simon in so many years... What did he look like now? Was he still the nerd she knew him to be? Did he still like music? Did he still wear glasses? Would he remember her or would he have forgotten her after all these years of not seeing her? She was caught between the two expressions: _Out of sight, out of mind _and _Absence makes the heart grow fonder._ She hoped it was the latter.

"Isabelle, are you coming?" Christina asked when the other girl didn't get up.

Isabelle shook her head. "No, I have other things to do. Maybe I'll see you later, though. Bye, guys."

"Bye."

_~0~_

"Simon, come with me; I have someone I want you to meet." Clary's voice drifted out of the garage over to Fey and her gang as they waited for her. Fey was nervous; it was a bit noticeable in the way she kept wringing her hands together and shifting her weight from foot to foot almost constantly. She couldn't keep still. She was so close to her old best friend - to both of them, actually. She didn't know what to expect. Would he look the same as what she remembered him looking last? Would he still act the same? And more importantly, would he remember her?

She knew Clary hadn't been telling the full truth the other night. She could still tell when the redhead was lying even after so many years of being away from her. Clary was just a really nice person; she didn't want to hurt Fey's feelings. While Fey appreciated the gesture, she would've preferred the truth. It didn't matter anyway. In time she hoped Clary really would remember her. If she spent enough time with her they could become best friends again; or so she hoped. Fey knew not to be so hopeful. She knew it was dangerous to set herself up that way. It was one of her traitorous traits; she was always hopeful that anything or anyone could change for the better. In her heart and soul, there was always hope.

"Really, Clary? Don't you think he already has enough girl problems in his life? There's already two - why does he need a third one?" an unfamiliar voice rang out from the garage, sounding further away from them than Clary's had.

"Oh, shut up, Eric!" This voice sounded much more familiar. Even though the memory of the voice was vague and faint, Fey could trace it back to her childhood memories of a boy with dark hair and dark eyes framed by glasses, and a healthy dose of sarcastic humor. She knew who this was.

"I'll take her if you don't want her!" The unfamiliar person - Eric - cried.

Then the garage door was opening, and Fey's heart kicked into high gear and flew into her throat, and Clary stepped out, leading another person behind her.

"Seriously, Clary, what's going on? Who do you want me to - " the boy cut off abruptly, catching sight of Fey. He still looked like she remembered him; same dark hair falling into his eyes, same dark eyes, although the glasses were misssing, even the same face, just slightly elongated and more mature looking. It was still Simon.

"Hello," Fey said softly, lips tugging up in a small, crooked smile. His eyes squinted slightly when he heard her voice, her accent.

"Hi," he said, still squinting. "Do I - have we ever met before?"

"Yes, actually, we have." Fey extended her hand for him to shake. "I'm Fey Youngcross. We knew each other as kids."

"Fey?" Simon took her hand, shaking it as he looked her up and down. "Oh my G - " he seemed to choke a bit then, but Fey didn't think it weird; perhaps, she thought, he was just really shocked. "The same Fey that Clary and I used to have sleepovers with yet never went to school with us? Our best friend, Fey?"

"The same," Fey replied breathlessly. She could hardly believe it; after Clary not being able to remember her, she wasn't sure if Simon would. The relief she felt then was so immense that she did something that surprised even her - she came at Simon and threw her arms around him. He stiffened for a second, surprised, but then hugged her back, laughing a bit.

"I can't believe it! You've been gone for - what? Five, almost six years? You look so... different, yet still the same. Crazy, curly blond hair, blue eyes, and I'm gonna guess here, but you're still a smartass." He looked her up and down. "Mhm. Definitely still a smartass. You've got the look of one; that smirk, body language. Haha."

"Always a smartass; I'll never lose my sass - so long as you don't lose yours," Fey said, grinning at him. Then she remembered her crew standing behind her silently; she felt a slight pang of guilt for having forgotten about them so quickly and completely. The excitement of having Simon and Clary back was just a little too good, she supposed.

"Anyway," she said, taking a step back from him, "this is my family. This is Christina Lovelace"- she indicated Christina, who stepped forward and offered her hand to Simon.

"Hello, nice to meet you," Christina said, curt and polite.

"This is Kyle Whitelaw."

"Hey, mate, nice to meet you," Kyle shook Simon's hand as he spoke.

"And this is his sister, Marina Whitelaw."

Marina looked him up and down at a leisurely pace, making it obvious that her rudeness was intentional. Then she reluctantly stepped forward and grabbed Simon's hand with her fingers as if she didn't want to touch him at all. If looks could kill, Marina would've been six feet under before she'd taken a single step. Fey was absolutely livid.

"A pleasure," Marina said, rolling her eyes.

"Charmed, I'm sure," Simon said sarcastically; his tone was upbeat and mocking. Marina caught on quickly, snatching her hand back and glaring.

"I'll have your head on a platter," said Fey in a sweet tone to the youger girl. To Simon, she said, "Don't mind her, she's always like this."

"I don't _mind,_" Simon said. He looked over at Marina. "It's actually kind of _cute._"

Fey snorted; the offended look on Marina's face was priceless. She shook her head, holding back laughter. "Still the same Simon I remember," she said, playfully slapping his shoulder.

"Still the same Fey I remember; haven't lost that abusive touch, have you?" He looked over at Kyle, who was watching their exchange silently with a strange look on his face that Fey couldn't decipher; it was gone before she could even be sure it was there. "I bet she turned it on you; I feel sorry for you."

"It's how I show my affection," Fey chirped. "Anyway, shouldn't we go inside?"

"Yeah, let's go inside," Clary agreed. She pushed up the garage door and they all followed her inside.

A few short introductions later, Fey began to notice how easy it was to interact with Clary and Simon. It was almost as if she had never left. Talking to them was as easy now as it had been then; even as they caught up and included Fey's crew into the conversations. They shared stories, talked with Simon's bandmates, laughed and cracked jokes - it was surprisingly _normal_. The only thing putting it down a bit was the fact that Marina was still being a brat.

"You know what's really awesome, though?" Eric said, putting down him drumsticks. "Having a vampire in our band. It's totally going to take us over the top in our career."

Fey and her friends, who had been laughing at something Clary had said, abruptly quieted, their laughter peetering out. "What? Who's a vampire?" asked Fey, a trickle of alarm leaking into her voice. She wasn't scared; just surprised, shocked, confused. Nobody had told her about this.

Eric raised his brows at her in surprise. "You mean nobody's told you yet?"

"Told me what? Clary, what's going on? What are they talking about?" Fey turned to Clary, who looked suspiciously pale. "Who's a vampire?"

Clary's mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out. Simon stepped forward then, ducking his head slightly and sighing. "I am," he said simply, raising his head to look her in the eye.

Fey's eyes widened. "How? What happened to you? Are you alright? Why didn't anyone tell me this earlier? Clary!" The redhead jumped, shrugging apologetically.

"It's not Clary's fault; just let me explain," said Simon. He let out a big sigh, and began the explanation with the air of dread and a low voice so that his bandmates wouldn't overhear.

By the time Simon stopped talking, Fey was already reaching out to hug him. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that," she whispered into his shoulder.

He hugged her back, shrugging one shoulder up. "It's alright. Not so bad being a vampire that can walk in daylight. It's just..."

"Your mother," Fey finished. Her heart tugged for him. "Oh, Simon. I am so sorry."

He shrugged again. At that moment, there was a large rap on the garage door. Fey and her group, who were standing against it, moved away from it as it slid up to reveal a boy standing in its place, backlit by the bright light from outside. In his hand he held a piece of paper; a flyer for something, Fey guessed. He looked down at it uncertainly, then back up at everyone.

"Hey," he said. "Is this the place where I can find the band Dangerous Stain?"

"We're actually Dichotomous Lemur now," Eric said, stepping up. "Who wants to know?"

"My name's Kyle," the boy said, stepping into the garage completely. Straightening up again after ducking slightly - he was pretty tall - he flipped the brown hair that fell over his eyes and held out the flyer to Eric. "I saw that you were looking for a lead singer."

"Man, I totally forgot about that flyer," Matt, another bandmate, said. "We put that flyer up, like, a year ago."

"Yeah, were were doing different things back then," Eric said. "We mostly just switch off on vocals. You got any experience?"

The boy, Kyle, shrugged. Fey glanced back at Kyle, _her_ Kyle, and raised an eyebrow at him when he caught her eye. He just rolled his eyes at her. She shouldered him playfully in response.

"Not really," the other Kyle said. "I've been told I can sing, though." He had a slow, drawling diction, more like a surfer than Southern accent.

The band members looked at each other uncertainly. "Can you maybe give us a second, dude?" Eric asked.

"Sure." Kyle ducked out of the garage, sliding the door closed behind him.

The band immediately started discussing. Clary interrupted the discussion. "I think," she said, raising her voice to be heard, "you should let him try out. Listen to him."

Simon turned and stared at her. "What? Why?"

"'Cause he's hot," she answered simply. "And your band needs sex appeal, just saying."

Fey glanced around at them all. Simon was pretty cute as far as Fey could tell, though she was biased, obviously, as they were best friends. The other guys were all right in their respective rights. But, as bad as she felt to admit, Clary spoke the truth. And, glancing at Marina and Christina, they thought so too.

"Gee," Simon said, "thank you very much. I know I can count on you to tell it to us straight."

Clary made a noise of impatience. "Yeah, you're all fine-looking guys. Especially you, Simon." She patted his hand mockingly. "But Kyle is seriously _hot._ I'm just saying what I think. From my opinion as a female, if you add Kyle to your band, you could double your female fan base."

That sparked a few sarcastic comments from the band. Fey glanced back at her gang; they all had uncomfortable expressions on their faces. She had to admit, she felt a bit awkward herself. It wasn't easy being around Simon and Clary after all these years; they had all three changed over the years, obviously. Different interests, friends, opinions. Simon was a vampire now, for goodness sake! That was definitely a big change.

_Sorry,_ she mouthed at them so that the people behind her wouldn't hear. Her Kyle and Christina shrugged; Marina merely ignored her. Fey put her hand in her coat pocket; Marina's cellphone was still there. She knew Marina wasn't above stealing her phone back. She had to keep close tabs on the phone lest she feel the need to do so.

The garage door slid up again, and Kyle stuck his head back in.

"Uh, dudes? If you don't want me to try out, it's cool. So you changed your sound, that's okay. Just, you know, say the word and I'm out."

"Well, come inside and let us get a look at you."

He stepped back into the garage. Fey scanned him up and down with her eyes. He was a tall, slim guy with broad shoulders, high cheekbones, and longish black hair that fell over his forehead and down his neck in soft curls. He had brown, tanned skin that Fey could tell hadn't lost its summer tan-ness yet. His hazel-green eyes were framed with long, thick eyelashes; he basically looked like a pretty-boy rockstar. He had ordinary clothes on, a fitted tee and jeans, and Fey noticed identical tattoos twining his bare arms; they looked like scrolling script winding up and around hsi shirt, eventually disappearing up the sleeves of his t-shirt.

All in all, he wasn't so sore on the eyes.

Kirk, another member of the band, broke the silence. "You know, I see it. He is pretty hot, actually."

Kyle blinked, and Fey snorted. Both Kyles glanced at her, her Kyle winking at her from the corner of his eye. The other Kyle turned back to Eric. "So, do you want me to try out or not?"

Eric grabbed the mike from the stand and handed it to Kyle. "Go ahead. Knock yourself out."

_~0~_

"He was pretty good, I think," Fey said to her Kyle as they walked a few paces behind Christina and Marina, who, in turn, were walking a few paces behind Simon and Clary. They were leading the way to Clary's house, apparently. They had kind of just drifted up in front of them, and Kyle and Fey had done the same, drifting to the back. It was twilight now, the sunlight fading away.

Kyle turned his head to look at her. "Sure, I guess. That was an interesting way to kill a few hours."

"I'm sorry you guys had to stand there in awkwardness. It was pretty awkward for me too. I guess I can't complain exactly, since I haven't seen them in so long. I mean, people change. Life moves on whether you're with it or not. It waits for no one, sadly. I just have to deal. And I can't forget that while I may have lost them at the age of twelve, I gain something significantly better." She beamed up at him.

Kyle pretended to think about what she said, bring a hand to his face and running it thoughtfully along his jaw. "Hmm," he said. "A bigger house? New scenery? A newer, more interesting life?"

She smacked his arm playfully. "No, you idiot! A new family." Her voice softened.

"Yeah," Kyle said, his voice softening as well. "That too."

They walked in silence for a few moments. Fey suddenly felt a warm tingly feeling in her hand. She looked down at it discreetly, and realized that her hand was brushing up against Kyle's. She was confused; this sensation kept happening. Why was it that whenever she touched skin with Kyle, she felt all tingly and warm inside? She didn't get it at all, and didn't know what to make of it.

To make it stop, she moved her hand away; but instead of keeping to herself, she linked arms with Kyle. She didn't want to seem rude, or worse, alert him to the fact that there was something behind the reason for moving it that wasn't about being casual or something. _Agh,_ she thought to herself. _I'm just confused._

They were nearing the house, now, apparently. Simon and Clary were slowing down to a crawl and stopping at the corner of the pavement. Kyle and Fey were still a ways away from them and Christina and Marina. They walked a long at a slow pace, silent.

Then suddenly, Kyle said, "Did... you think that Kyle guy was hot?"

Fey's eyes widened, and she slowly turned her head to look at Kyle. His expression was of forced throughtfulness; he was trying to hide what he was thinking from his expression. Fey couldn't help it - the question and his expression were too much. She burst out laughing, leaning her head on his shoulder and grabbing his hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

Kyle looked confused, to say the least.

"Oh, Kyle, you son of a gun," was all he got out of her. She wiped a tear from her eye and tugged him along, following Clary and the girls. She waved goodbye to Simon, who was already walking away.

Clary led Fey and her gang inside the house. Fey was disoriented for a moment; she didn't recognize the house or the things in it. But she followed Clary in, nonetheless. Her gang followed suit, just as uncertain as she was.

"Mom, I'm home," Clary called, rounding a corner. "I've brought some friends over."

"Friends?" A dreadfully familiar voice called. Fey's blood turned icy cold in her veins. She stiffened, and so did the rest of her crew - even  
Marina. Dazedly, Fey realized Christina must've filled her in. She suddenly didn't want to follow Clary, but she was already around the corner; it was too late to turn around and go back. Mechanically, Fey swiftly walked into the kitchen behind Clary, who stood next to a familiar figure. The other person had their back facing Fey and her crew, so she hadn't been spotted yet. She remembered what the woman looked like, though; red hair, freckles, green eyes...

Jocelyn Fairchild turned around to face them with a smile on her face that made Fey want to scream and cry and laugh and yell all at the same time. The smile froze on Jocelyn's face as vague recognition settled in. Fey swiftly strode forward, one hand extended for a handshake, her face blank of any expression except for a tiny upward curve of her lips.

"Hello, Ms. Fray," Fey said in a dead, polite voice. "I'm Fey Youngcross."

* * *

**AND I STOP. OMG GUYS IM SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG I HAD A LOT GOING ON:**

**CSTs**

**PROFICIENCIES**

**EVEN MORE TESTING**

**RUSHED LAST-MINUTE CLASS PROJECTS FOR EACH SUBJECT**

**HOME PROBLEMS**

**GRADUATION PREP**

**GRADUATION**

**GREAT AMERICA TRIP**

**LAST TWO DAYS OF SCHOOL**

**AND BABYSITTING MY SIBLINGS WHILE MY MOM AND DAD ARE AT WORK.**

**I ALSO JUST BUILT MY OWN BED AND DESK, SO I'VE GOT A WORK PLACE TO WORK THROUGH THE SUMMER NOW, YUPPEE!**

_**PLEASE REVIEW EVEN THOUGH I KNOW YOU ALL HATE ME FOR TAKING SO LONG, I'M GONNA WORK HARDER THIS SUMMER FOR YOU GUYS. NOW I GOTTA GO WORK ON MY OTHER FANFICS.**_

_**DON'T FORGET TO FOLLOW ME ON TUMBLR, K? THANKS. :D**_

**I LOVE YOU GUYS, SEE Y'ALL NEXT TIME.**

**Ciao!**

**~Alee V.**


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